The Fat Friar and the Frosting Death
by Karma-k2
Summary: Got the idea from a random title generator and ran with it. Why DID the Fat Friar decide to become a ghost?


"Friar Thomas!"

The tubby little Friar being so addressed turned to see a younger Friar by the name of Julius rushing towards him in as dignified a manner as possible.

"What is it, Julius? It is not becoming for a man of the cloth to rush about like this."

"I'm sorry, sir, but Father Michael requests your presence _immediately_, sir." Julius' manner was eager, deferential and a little worried. Being called in before Father Michael was never a good sign - the Head of their Order was a stern man.

"Then you did rightly," sighed Thomas. "I have feared this day to be long in coming, yet I admit to hoping it never would. Still, there is nothing for it but to see our Leader."

"Sir..." Here Julius hesitated. Thomas did not seem to the type to incur the wrath of Father Michael, and curiousity in the private affairs of his brothers was a trait that the Order's Head tried to extinguish. Still, the shorter, plump Friar was a kindly man, although possessing a mysterious past. Julius firmed his resolve. "Sir ... may I ask what you mean?"

Thomas frowned at the younger Friar, not out of annoyance, but trying to find a way to explain to him without terrifying him.

_'Hmmm... how to explain to a young Muggle that magic exists without conjuring ideas of demons? And that Father Michael and I are both wizards?'_ he mused.

"Father Michael and I have ... an extended history," he said finally. "We have never truly seen eye-to-eye, and ... well, we shall see." With a kindly smile, Thomas bid Julius farewell and made his way to Michael's office.

"Enter!" came the sharp command.

"Father Michael." Friar Thomas humbly greeted his superior in the correct fashion and straightened up.

Michael searched Thomas' face, trying to find any trace of guile. As he expected, the fat Friar was completely without deception.

"Thomas. Please sit."

The Friar was surprised - this was not Michael's traditional way of greeting his subordinates. Still, he complied, sitting in a hard chair as Michael took the one opposite.

"Thomas, we have known one another for over half a century, have we not?"

"Yes sir. We have known each other since we started ... school."

"I have sufficiently shielded the room, Thomas. You are free to speak of Hogwarts in here."

"Yes sir."

"You were a Hufflepuff, if I recall?"

"Yes, Father. And you ... you were Slytherin."

"Indeed I was." Michael's face wore a reminiscent smile, obviously recalling his youth with fondness. His gaze sharpened as he seemed to realise he had a guest. "Thomas, I know we have never agreed on many things, but you must admit, for a Slytherin, I am not all bad. After all, I have fashioned a life for myself among Muggles, as opposed to upholding my House's ideals of pure-bloodedness. My parents were Muggles."

"Yes, Father. This is true."

"Come. We are the only wizards in the Order. You may address me as 'Michael' when we are alone."

"I have never called you 'Michael' before, Father. I believe I may be too old to change my habits now."

"Very well." Michael seemed truly disappointed with Thomas' answer, and turned to a small table behind him. He used his body to hide the table from view for a mere few seconds, before turning back to face Thomas with a smile. "May I offer you a slice of cake, at least?"

Thomas hesitated, his father's words of _never trust a Slytherin!_ still echoing strongly in his mind, even after all this time. Still, Michael was a religious man - the Head of the Order - and as such, was not permitted to do harm. With a grateful smile, the Fat Friar reached out and took the offered slice of cake, noting happily that the frosting was nice and thick.

Michael ate his slice sedately, watching Thomas closely. Thomas finished his own slice of cake, feeling queasy as he did so, but in typical Hufflepuff fashion, attributed this to being unused to the richness of the treat.

Across from him, Michael's body went rigid.

"Father? _Father? __**MICHAEL?**_" Thomas darted to his colleague's side as Michael started to convulse.

"I'm sorry, ... Thomas," Michael said weakly, red bubbles popping on his lips. "But wizards and Muggles ... were never meant ... to live together. Slytherin's ... may not traditionally ... have the right attitude towards ... Muggles, ... but they're right ... in that. We can not co-exist ... so freely."

"Michael," whispered Thomas as his own body experienced shooting pains. "I ... I do not understand. Why ... did you do this ... to us? ... You ... you could have ... left ... hidden away ... from ... Muggles ..."

"Yes ... yes we could have. Yet ... yet we would not ... have been happy ... in hiding. It is not ... who we are ..."

And, now doubled over in agony, Thomas had to agree. This did not, however, explain why Michael felt the need to kill them both, and in halting gasps, he posed the question.

The answer vindicated everything Thomas' father had said about Slytherins.

"I filled ... the frosting ... with ... a tasteless poison. ... I was ... always good ... at Potions ... and it ... amused me ... to end ... a Hufflepuff's life ... with hospitality ..." Michael's face slackened as the last of his life left him.

Thomas, not long left to go on his own life saw the black irony in that. His House, after all, was famed for it's hospitableness. But he, Thomas, had no wish to die - and certainly not at the hands of someone he trusted.

_'Besides which,'_ he thought wryly, _'"Death by frosting" ... is __**not**__ the most flattering ... epitaph ...'_

As the life drained from him, he was determined not to leave life altogether. He wanted - **needed** - to find good in Slytherin before he could move on.

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The Fat Friar cast a critical eye over the newest batch of students, two especially catching his attention.

Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy sat together at the Slytherin bench, nervously smiling at each other.

And the Fat Friar - formerly Friar Thomas - smiled.

After almost four hundred years ... after generations of disappointment as each Slytherin to graduate from Hogwarts forcibly reminded him of Father Michael ... he just knew it - that _finally_ there was some good in Slytherin.


End file.
